


Papped

by Amymel86



Series: Jonsa S7 Summer Challenge [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Celebrity Sansa, F/M, Holiday fling?, Jonsa Summer Challenge, Paparazzi Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 02:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11454450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: Entry for Day 1 of the Jonsa S7 Summer Challenge  on tumblr - TravelActress Sansa would really like to get away from all these paps harassing her about her break up with Joffrey. Just when she thinks she's escaped them, she hears the click and shutter of a camera.





	Papped

**Author's Note:**

  * For [qinaliel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/qinaliel/gifts).



> For qinaliel for sending me the photos that sparked this little one shot.

The life of Sansa Stark would be a strange one to walk for the majority of people on this earth. Being born into one of the country’s top political families and then becoming a shining star on stage and screen might seem perfectly ideal (and Sansa herself would admit, she’s more than lucky with  _most_  aspects of her life) but it really does hit home that her life is not her own one balmy summer night.

Joffrey, a fellow actor and very, very recent ex fiancé had recently started dating Margaery Tyrell. It was all over the media, making it desperately difficult for Sansa to escape his smug wormy face wherever she went. Not only could she not escape  _them_ , but the paps seemed to want to know exactly how many tears she had shed for her asshole ex, and precisely which note of bitterness was left on the tip of her tongue.

They’d follow her wherever she went - there was no escape, whether it be at a quiet lunch with a friend or simply popping to the convenience store to grab some milk. But that wasn’t the worst of it - it was the questions and insults that would spew from their rancid mouths behind the incessant flashes of their bulky cameras.

_“Sansa! Sansa! Did Joff dump you because you wouldn’t blow him often enough?”_

_“You gonna get your tits done like Margaery’s?”_

_“That’s a short skirt Sansa - are you looking to get fucked tonight?”_

She  _knew_  it was all to get a rise out of her - for the chance to be the ones to capture the very shot of when perfect Sansa Stark took a running leap into the pool of curdled anger and lash out at one of these idiots. She very nearly did once. She had been stopped by a group of fans in the street one ordinary Wednesday afternoon, when, whilst distracted signing autographs and taking selfies, an unknown man growled loudly beside her.

“What are you doing?! Get up you perverted fucker!”

Sansa turned to see a pap on his back on the floor, the lens of his camera pointed upward as he was apparently attempting to take a snap up her pale pink floaty skirt. She watched with a gasp as the man who had called the perpetrator out heave him up off the ground and manhandle him away in a blur of dark hair and denim shirt. She thought that there were a few fists flying but couldn’t be sure as she was quickly enveloped once more by a sea of smiling faces  as her fans waited for the chance to talk to her.

It was then that she decided that she needed a break.

There weren’t that many places that Sansa Stark could go and be unnoticed, but she could rock the standard disguise ensemble of hat and big sunglasses with the best of them and she desperately wanted some form of retreat. With that in mind, Sansa decided to book a couple of weeks away in the sun. Nothing too flashy, maybe a Greek Island or two.

So here she was, toes curling in the slowly cooling sand of a quiet beach in Mykonos, enjoying watching the evening sun melt into the sea. Going on holiday alone had been a strange prospect at first, but she soon found the experience to be strangely releasing. She could do as she pleased and she needn’t think of anyone else before herself.

 _And so far no one has recognised me,_ Sansa thought with a blissful sigh as she listened to the gentle lapping of the waves as they licked the sand and retreated back to the depths of the ocean.

_Click wirr…..click-click wirr….click wirr…_

_Shit._

Sansa turned her head to peer over the shoulder towards the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter and scowled at the perpetrator.

The man in question was a decent distance away and a little behind her, he was crouching on his haunches, his huge camera obscuring his face.

“I wondered how long it would take one of you lot to find me” Sansa huffed and turned back to face the reds and oranges that burnt into the sky.

“Err…I’m sorry?” 

Sansa twisted her body to face him, narrowing her eyes when she recognised his face. She often tries desperately to ignore the existence of the paparazzi as they follow her in and out of buildings or cars, but there’s the odd few that she knows by sight; there’s the large one who’s gut has a dangerously unhealthy girth (he’s normally the first to say something salacious or down right insulting), then there’s the short one who uses far too much gel in his hair and likes to get uncomfortably close with his camera lens….and then there’s  _this_  guy.

On the odd occasion that his camera leaves his face, Sansa has been slightly taken aback by how handsome it is, with his warm grey eyes, his full lips framed by a scruff of dark facial hair and his head of inky curls. Whenever she notices that he is amongst the throng of nudging elbows and flashing lights, she notes that he doesn’t shout or holler, he doesn’t push and shove to get the perfect shot of her as she’s getting out of a car with a skirt on….in fact, he’s probably not a very good pap at all. But he is normally there, clicking away with the rest of them.

“You heard me” she huffs “I can’t get away can I?…One way or another, one of you will find me.”

The man’s eyes widens as he scans her face. “Sansa Stark!” he exclaims in a breath, like he’d never seen her before, or like he hadn’t known it was her.

_Oh._

“I….I was just..” he stutters and gestures from his bulky camera out to the setting sun “your silhouette….as you sat there…with the sun setting..I’m so sorry, I’ll-” he stands, letting the heavy camera fall to his torso as it clings around his neck with wide black straps. “I’ll leave you be, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it was you.” 

“You didn’t realise?”

The man shakes his head bashfully in response as he wipes sand from the back of his shorts.

“Make a habit of snapping photos of random girls on holiday then do you?” Sansa asks, unable to stop the small smile from painting her lips with amusement at this awkward exchange.

“Not normally, no” he says, taking a tentative step forward in the sand. “I normally stick to scenery or wildlife, but you-….it looked beautiful the way you were gazing out to the ocean.”

“Scenery or wildlife huh? That why you were there last week when I was clothes shopping in Oxford Street?”

“Ye-yeah, well, I wasn’t far away when I got the call that you were in-in the area, so…” the dark haired man started to rub at the back of his neck nervously as he stared down at the sand “You…you noticed me?” he asked, peeking up at her through his lashes.

“Well you were right behind the guy who asked me what colour underwear I was wearing.” Sansa said, throwing Captain Awkward a smirk.

“Terry’s a jerk…I’m sorry that you have to put up with that kind of thing…the shouting and all.”

“I’ve had worse” Sansa shrugs. It doesn’t excuse the fact, but it’s the truth. “Besides, I’ve never once heard  _you_  shout a thing at me….or barge your way to the front of the crowd and shove your camera in my face.” 

“It’s just rude, I guess.”

Sansa laughs softly as her fingers rake patterns into the cool sand. “Then you can’t be very good at your job.”

“I’m not….not really” he agrees “I only got into it through a friend, my heart’s not in it….but I need the money.”

Sansa nods in understanding and shifts her gaze back to her hands as she starts pushing a small pile of sand to cover her feet where she has her legs tucked under herself to one side. Mr  _polite pap_ seems to take this as his cue to retreat as he takes a couple of steps backwards. Just as he’s about to twist his body to face the promenade behind them, he stops and strides up to Sansa instead.

“I’m Jon by the way, Jon Snow” he says, thrusting out his hand.

Sansa looks up at him and his offered greeting. The friendly nerves clear in his eyes and the quick lick of his lips, it spurs her on to shake his hand and pat the sand next to her. “Take a pew Jon Snow.”

Slowly, but surely as they talk amiably, Jon’s nerves melt away not unlike the sun into the horizon. They talk about their lives back home and her crazy career. Sansa learns about his friend Sam who apparently had booked this holiday with Jon as a lads get away, only for him to bail when he found out that his girlfriend was pregnant. It’s nearing pitch black when Jon helps Sansa to her feet and they make their way back towards the lights of civilisation.

“Baby blue.” Sansa says, her feet kicking up sand as she walks.

“I’m sorry?”

“The colour of my underwear that day in Oxford Street - baby blue.” Sansa grins to herself at the little throat clearing noise she hears from Jon’s direction. It’s dark - so dark that she can’t see the blush on his cheeks, but she’s pretty sure that it’s there as she laughs softly at the little glaces Jon throws at her all the way back to the promenade.

 

*********

 

Two days after meeting Jon, it was the last day of her holiday and Sansa was sat alone in the al fresco area of a quaint little restaurant, big floppy ‘holiday hat’ and large sunglasses firmly in place as she waits for her food to arrive.

 _Should have bought a book with me_ , she thinks, her fingers skimming the petals of the single vivid orange gerbera sat in a little vase on her table. With a sigh and another glance over the menu, Sansa decides that a good session of people-watching is in order.

With her glass of crisp, cold white wine pressed to her lips, ready for the occasional sip, she gazes out to the people passing by on the cobbled pavement. A faint and slightly pained smile graces her lips as she realises that the majority of people milling about are couples. Happy ones.

“Erm…Sansa?” comes a voice, bringing her back to the present. She blinks up at the origin of said voice and can’t help the genuine smile that comes once she realises who it belongs to.

“Jon.”

“Hi” he says, returning her smile with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He shuffles his feet a little awkwardly as neither of them break the strange heady atmosphere between them.

“Is this man bothering you Miss Stark?” a waiter says, appearing out of nowhere and bursting the bubble. Sansa frowns, she hadn’t realised that anyone had recognised her.

“No, no” she smiles “he’s with me….sit down Jon” she says, pushing the opposite chair out with her foot.

 

************

 

 

“I can’t believe I’m kissing Sansa Stark.” Jon muffles into her neck between presses of lips and swipes of tongue. 

“Shut up” Sansa giggles in response.

“You shut up - I’m ecstatic! Nothing this good ever happens to me.” he responds making Sansa laugh and then gasp when he hooks a large hand behind her thigh and hitches her leg over his hip as he presses her against the wall of her holiday villa.

“Wine makes you funny.”

“Wine makes me horny.”

“Mmmmm…me too.” Sansa responds, rocking her hips against his and burying her fingers in his hair.

 

************

 

 

“YOU SLEPT WITH A PAP?!? ARE YOU INSANE?!” Arya hollers down the phone, so loudly that Sansa has to hold it away from her ear.

“Yeah” she says, worrying her lip as she walks past her still packed luggage and throws herself down on the sofa back home in her London townhouse “and that’s not the worst part.”

“There’s a worse part?! Was he terrible?”

“No” Sansa smirks to herself “quite the opposite.” Her smile turning into a full beam when she remembers just how Jon had practically worshipped her body, layering her with pleasure upon pleasure and then holding her tight afterwards. Her grin disappears as quickly as it appeared “No I-……I may or may not have posed for a few….explicit photos” she winces at her words and starts to bite her thumbnail waiting for her sister’s response.

“You posed for-…WHAT THE ACTUAL EVER-LOVING  _FUCK_ SANSA?! THIS COULD RUIN YOU! THIS COULD RUIN THE FAMILY”

“I know! I know! Don’t you think I know that?!”

“Then why did you-”

“He was so sweet and genuine and caring and adorably awkward and…..and fucking hotter than the sun.” Sansa can’t help but let the fear crack her voice. This  _could_  ruin her. This  _could_  ruin her whole family. If Jon sends those photos to the press-

Just then, a knock comes from her front door, interrupting Arya’s frantic speech about contacting their lawyers and forcing Sansa to bite back the sob that was forming in her throat.

And then there, on her doorstep, was Jon. Roll-along suitcase behind him and big bulky camera in hand.

“Jon” Sansa breathed in surprise. His smile falters when he looks in her eyes.

“Sansa? Are you alright?”

“I…um…how do you know where I live?” she says, changing the subject and sniffing back her panic.

“I may be a useless pap, but I have some connections” he smiles softly before shifting on his feet, clearing his throat and fumbling with the camera in his hands. “Here” he says, handing over a small blue memory card “as much as I would like to keep those photos for myself, I….well, I figured that you’re probably loosing your mind over what I might do with them.”

“Oh” Sansa says, staring at the little piece of technology in her hand “thank you Jon.” She narrows her eyes and looks back at him “how do I know you haven’t made copies?” she half-teases. Jon shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs.

“Trust?” He suggests.

_Now there’s a novel concept._

Somehow, she can’t help it - the way Jon makes her feel - like none of the shit of the past few months matters anymore, or that perhaps it was all just a nightmare she had to endure to be able to stumble into a pleasant dream.

A small, tinny voice breaks the silence between them and Sansa quickly realises that she’s still holding her phone.

“Hello? Hello? Sans? You still there?” Arya calls out.

“Yeah, I’m still here” Sansa replies after lifting the phone back to her ear. “Listen, Arya, don’t call the lawyers, I think we’re good.”

“We’re good? Sans? Who are you with? What’s happened?”

“It’s that guy I was talking about” she explains whilst maintaining eye contact and a smile with Jon.

“The pap?!”

“Yeah…he’s-” Sansa looks down at the little memory card as she rolls it around in her hand “he’s given me the photos.” Looking back up at Jon, she can’t help the little flutter in her tummy at his smile and raised brow.

“Well thank fuck for that!”

“Yeah….look, Arya, I gotta go, speak later ok?”

“Alright, but - at the risk of sounding like our mother - don’t you ever do anything like that again!”

Sansa lets out a musical giggle as she grabs Jon by the wrist and all but yanks him inside her home. “I can’t promise anything” she laughs down the phone at her sister before ending the call, pocketing her phone and pushing the worst pap in all of London up against the wall.

**Author's Note:**

> You might be thinking 'gee Amy, you've jumped the gun and posted this one early for the challenge haven't you?' but to that, I say that I'm on UK time and I've had this in my drafts for aaaages....and I have a trigger happy finger who refused not to click 'post' lol....just doing my bit for the numbers people!!


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